Issues
by Aeternus-Spes
Summary: A collection of drabbles centered around Jonathan Crane and Edward Nygma. Pretty much always Crane/Nygma slash.
1. Daddy Issues

_So I'm in the middle of my exams and decide to take a break and go look around the Batman Kink Meme. Baaad idea. I somehow got roped into writing a drabble/story thing for a pairing I've never attempted before. Anyway, enjoy the fail._

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There is a moment, maybe just a minute, where Edward Nigma's expression is that of shock, growing horror and the slightest hint of betrayal. Of course soon the horrified expression takes over as the genius' vision blurs and when it rights itself, the man - the one man he hoped he would never have to see again is standing in front of him. Now normally in a situation like this where Edward clearly has no chance of winning, he would run, but fear holds him to the spot.  
"D-dad..." He practically whimpers, frozen as his Father advances on him.  
"I'll give you one last chance Eddie." His Father's voice is deceptively calm. "Just admit that you cheated - **again** and perhaps I might forget all about this." Even as he speaks he is slowly undoing his belt and pulls it loose from his trousers.  
"I-I..." Edward stammers, feeling and even sounding like a teenager again. "I-I didn't cheat..." The words are whispered, but his Father still hears them.  
The man shakes his head and closes his eyes in disappointment. "You really shouldn't lie to me, Eddie." He hisses, grabbing Edward by the front of his t-shirt and throwing him against the wall.  
The first punch disorientates him; he wasn't expecting fists, he thought he would just be whipped a few times. As the second punch splits his lip and rattles his teeth, Edward thinks that maybe- just maybe he should have lied to his Father. And then the sharp metal and leather of the belt snap across his chest and Edward just screams.  
Even though he has such a genius mind he can't remember or even believe that this isn't actually happening - that it's actually just a hallucination from the fear toxin that was so rudely stabbed into his arm. All he can focus on his the pain - _Oh god the pain, please Dad stop it hurts oh god why are you doing this I told you the truth **Please stop it hurts PLEASE STOP AHHHHHH**_ - and the fear and the crippling need to tell his Father that he didn't cheat and that he can be proud of his son and he doesn't have to hurt him, but all he can do is writhe in pain, choking on the screams and whimpers of pain.

There was something so perfectly satisfying about watching someone writhe around of the concrete floor, screaming in a delightful mixture of fear and pain.  
_'But I must not be distracted. This is an important piece of research.' _Doctor Jonathan Crane thinks as he stands to the side, observing Edward. _'Honestly though. If he had just shut the hell up when I had asked, he wouldn't be in this situation in the first place. Although, I cannot say I am displeased with the way things have turned out.'_His attention snaps back to Edward as the screaming starts to die down and the shaking man curls up into a ball, hiding his head with his arms, still begging for his Father to stop and that he didn't lie. Realising that the effects of the new batch of fear toxin must be wearing off, Crane removes his mask, sets down on the table, grabs one of the chairs and draws it up next to the prone figure on the floor, making notes on his clipboard about the how short the delusion seemed to last. He is so immersed in his notes that he doesn't notice that Edward is now watching him until the Riddler speaks.

"You're an asshole." His voice is weak and scratchy and after he finishes speaking he dissolves into a horrible fit of coughing that leaves him clutching at his throat in agony.  
Crane merely "Hmmm"s in reply, peering at Edward over the top of his glasses. He makes a few more notes before putting his clipboard to one side. He then reaches down, shivering lightly at the thrill that is sent down his spine as Edward flinches away from the hand that grasps at his face. Crane takes a moment to observe how Edward's eye focus, then unfocus and then dart around the room, as if to make sure his Father really isn't anywhere near. "You'll be fine." With that said, Crane leans down, presses his lips to Edward's in a slow kiss. When he eventually breaks it, Crane just lets go of Edward's head (inadvertently allowing him to crumple back to the floor), stands up and heads back to the room where he has his laboratory set up to rework his new fear toxin.  
Edward manages to roll into a comfortable position on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling, desperately trying to repress the horrific memories that have been called up, even though he knows they will all come flooding back the next time Crane decides to use him as a test subject or because Edward was 'misbehaving'.

* * *

_Oh god what the hell why do you people make me write this crap?_

_**Edit (06/07/10): **Oh what the hell you guys. Person. One person in particular (**YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE**). They've someone managed to inspire me into writing more. -_-, so yes, I changed the name of the fanfic, the summary and I will eventually add another chapter to this.  
__Just to let you know, the drabbles won't always be connected, but most of them will revolve around the relationship (if it can really be called that) between Eddie-kins and Crane. and the abuse. Much Edward abuse._

_See you in the next chapter~_


	2. The Civilian Life of Edward Nigma

_Whee so this is another short story about Edward and Jonathan (with added Joker)._

**Pairings: Crane/Nigma**

**_Warnings: _**_Violence, murder, a tiny bit of blood/gore (but really not much) and swearing._

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**_The Civilian Life of Edward Nigma Part 1_**

Edward sighed in boredom as he looked around his office. He span the black leather chair lightly so that instead of facing the elegant ivory walls, cream carpet and tasteful black furniture the Private-Detective was looking out over the metropolis that was Gotham City. His office certainly provided a breath-taking view; even though it was only from the 42nd floor and there were much taller buildings surrounding the one he resided in, the sprawling labyrinth of buildings were laid out like an endless scar on the Earth.  
Edward Nigma didn't think he was a Romantic; he didn't find the hum of life beautiful or the stubbornness to survive of the people of Gotham City inspiring, but instead found the population to be worthless, useless wastes of space that were so _stupid_ it was infuriating. Everything they did seemed moronic and Edward had been quite happy to spend his days proving this as the Riddler; with his fun little games and toys that any _semi-intelligent _person should have been able to figure it out, but no, the people of Gotham were too dim and brainless and the Riddler did them a favour by ending their pointless lives.  
Evil? He thought he should be given a medal for the work he had been doing! Like the Batman weeded out the corrupt and dangerous, the Riddler had weeded out the unintelligent and obtuse.  
But of course, the mindless population saw him only as a threat and malevolent and had him sent to a hospital (Edward snorted in amusement at the thought of anyone every actually getting any better in Arkham Asylum) and when he escaped from that hospital, they sent him to another. And another. And another, until eventually, somehow, they managed to "cure" the Riddler of his evil ways.  
With a sigh, Edward turned his back on the city and reached for one of the draws in his desk and pulled out various bottles full of tiny little tablets until he found the bottle he was after. His hand only shook very lightly as he dry swallowed two of the white pills, while he spilled the rest onto the dark cherry-wood desktop. Absentmindedly Edward instantly started to rearrange the pills in a certain pattern.  
He leaned back in his chair and he let his head rest on the back of the chair and his eyes close. A breathy chuckle escaped Edward as he mumbled "I don't miss it. I did the right thing in starting this business." The words rang hollow around the room and for a split second, Edward almost felt a longing for the random safe-houses he used to use, or when they were compromised, a random slum dweller's house, but then the medication kicked in and the desire to punish the unintelligent, the desire to be acknowledged as smart, and in control and the desire to _break free_ vanished along with the faint tremors that had been wracking his body.  
When Edward stood up and headed towards the door he unconsciously readjusted his _normal_ suit (a white shirt and a black jacket and a black tie and black trousers and not a single hint of green) and picked up his _normal_ bowler hat (black, just black) and his _normal_ cane (wooden, painted black and not a single hidden trick to it) from the hat-stand.  
Without a glance behind him, Edward exited his office, the question-mark made of white pills left all alone.

Edward nodded to his sectary (a quiet woman who had, not only passed the various riddles he had set, but also apparently understood his strange compulsions) when she passed him his black-leather gloves. "The meeting with the informant is going ahead then?" She asked, her pen poised to take notes. "You said yesterday that she would most probably be dead by now."  
"Yes indeed. If he doesn't know where to find the woman then probability of her being alive is less than a 1% chance." Edward answered, some-what dismissively before he walked out, not bothering to say goodbye.  
When he eventually made it down to the ground floor (why is it that elevators are either obscenely slow, or so fast you get whiplash?), Edward took a deep breath of the (polluted) city air, fixed a condescending smirk on his face and started off down the sidewalk at a brisk pace. He didn't want to be late, now did he?  
It took Edward a good half an hour to navigate his way though the dank and reeking back-alleys of this area of Gotham before he came across the shoddy street he was meant to be meeting the informant in.  
A simple glance told Edward that the man was not there and Edward sighed in annoyance. The last thing he wanted to do was spend more time in the filthy back-end of nowhere and run the risk of bumping into people who had a grudge on him (and there were plenty of them…).  
The moment Edward heard the incoherent, _terrified_ screams he froze, paralysed with shock and disbelief. Then he started to run. As fast as possible he tried to escape because those screams sounded like someone was being forced to face their worse nightmares completely against their will, they sounded like a Doctor Jonathan Crane's patients."I told you we should have waited" Joker licked his lips, but didn't take his eyes off the screaming man, who was writhing around on the floor, seemingly trying to scratch his own eyes out.  
"I thought his mind would be stronger. This is just a low dosage." Scarecrow replied almost distractedly, his head titled slightly, fascinated by the fear only this man could see. "If he broke this easily then I doubt he would have been any…fun, to question anyway."  
Both villains jumped back when the deranged man suddenly surged upright and lunged away from the hallucinations that had control, but unfortunately, this action sent the man careering straight into Edward (who apparently has no sense of direction and had managed to run _toward_ the source, not away).  
The man grabbed hold of Edward and started to claw at the detective's body, assuming the thing he was holding onto was just trying to hurt him. And, in all fairness, Edward did deliver a ferocious blow to the man's head with his cane which made the madman let go. Alas Edward was never one for doing a half-assed job, and considering the amount of blood gushing from the site of impact and the fact that the poor bugger's mental capabilities were now most likely destroyed, Edward flicked his jacket open, pulled out a simple handgun and shot the man in the head. As soon as the muzzle cooled down a bit, the gun was replaced back in it's holder and Edward stared mournfully at the snapped cane in his hands. "I only just got this one. My psychiatrist gave it to me for making such good progress."  
Edward suddenly realised, with horror that if the blood got on his gloves it could destroy them, so he flung the cane covered in blood (and bits of head) away from himself, which was when he noticed the two villains staring at him.  
"Oh sodding **_hell_."**

Crane sighed lightly and took a good look at Edward (someone he hadn't seen in quite a while) "You would appear to be doing…_well_ for yourself, all things considered." The contempt in his voice was not hidden in the slightest.  
Edward just smirked at Crane. "I would say the same for you, but, my dear doctor, you would appear to be looking rather…_ruffled_. Can you not find a safe place to hide?"  
Even though Edward could not see it through the burlap mask Crane was wearing, the Doctor was scowling. "Watch your mouth _detective_. Your mind is even more fragile now you're pretending to be one of them." The words were said with an almost gleeful tone, but the mood was quickly killed by the Joker.  
"Now now Doctor," the Joker laughed again "we're all friends here. We should play a game~!"  
While the Joker was talking, Edward had begun to back away from the dead informant (part of his mind whispered that his client would be a bit upset to find out that his fiancé wouldn't be found, but oh well). "I'm terribly sorry gentlemen," Edward interrupted the two villains when he was a safe enough distance away "but I really must be going. Prior arrangement, dead women, probably angry clients and all that. I would say it was enchanting to see you again, but well…"  
"You're leaving?" The Joker's smile got a bit more manic "Before we can have our fun?". Edward looked back to the Joker and shuddered slightly. "No offence but I'd rather see Batman than you stay and have 'fun' with you."  
The Joker laughed like Edward had told a particularly good joke, but the moment he stopped, a rather threatening carving knife was pulled from the inside of his coat. "Now that's no way to talk to your friends, Eddie-boy." And with that disturbing speed, the Joker had managed to close the distance between them quite well, until Edward calmly shot the Joker in the leg. When the psychopathic clown hit the floor, writhing in pain, Edward once again coolly aimed and shot him in the opposite foot, just to make sure.  
"Now that wasn't very nice." the Joker managed to gasp out, as he clutched at his leg with one hand and attempted to reach his foot with the other.  
Edward smirked and shook his head. "It's not a very nice city." Almost as soon as he had finished speaking, without a qualm, Edward raised the gun and aimed it steadily at Crane's head (the Scarecrow had been attempting to get close enough to send a burst of gas in Edward's face). "I don't know how thick your mask is, John, but I doubt it will stop a bullet."  
For reference, Jonathan seemed to have no issues with a gun being pointed at him, but simply raised his hands in a placating manner and stepped back. "You seems to be fairly confident with a gun now. I remember once you said you didn't like them." Crane said thoughtfully.  
"I don't." Is the answer he got from Edward who looked torn between running and continuing the conversation. "I just realised that it's safer to have something that will instantly kill a person from a distance." His eyes flicked to the Joker quickly, as if assure himself the crazy clown was still sitting on the floor. "And it's a bit more legal than throwing a stick of dynamite or something." He shrugged a shoulder.  
The Joker laughed suddenly, capturing the two's attention. "I thought you were meant to be reformed. A brand new person, a _lawful _person."  
Edward faltered and lowered the gun ever so slightly. "I'm still…" He trailed off, his eyes darted nervously between the two villains. "Sometimes I…slip up. But it's only with criminals!" He quickly tried to justify his actions (mainly to himself). "I don't make the first move. They attack first. I have every right to kill them."  
Crane, being the master of the mind (conscious, subconscious, you name it) instantly picked up on this weakness. "And did your psychiatrist tell you this, Edward?"  
The averted eyes and faint tremor in the once-stable hand was answer enough. "Are you trying hard not to disappoint her?" Crane asked in a soft voice.  
"Him." Edward muttered and the gun dropped even further down.  
"He's controlling you through your desire to feel acknowledged. He rewards you with gifts like _that_" Crane gestured to the broken cane "to condition you into being a model citizen, is that right, Edward?"

Again, Edward didn't answer, but Crane knew exactly what to say. "You've changed a lot Edward. You're much more mature than when we last met. I think this little break from crime has done you good."  
"Stop it. Stop talking like I've only stopped for a short while. I've left that life behind. I'm not a criminal anymore." Edward nearly yelled and raised the gun back up to Crane's head.  
"Hmmm I wonder." Was the only answer he got before (yet again) he was distracted by the Joker, who was trying to stand up.  
"The floor just isn't my scene, y'know?" The clown muttered as he staggered against one of the walls. "This has been _fun_."  
Edward shook his head in a helpless manner. "I don't believe you two. I really don't. I have to go." Edward was mentally kicking himself. He should have just run away at the first chance. Anything was better than actually _talking_ to these two.  
Of course, Crane didn't seem to like this idea. "But Edward we've only just started to make progress. If we stop now then by the next session a lot of the progress will have degraded."  
"Oh just keep talking Jonathan. I've always wanted to know if shoot you would shut you up."  
"You would make a good partner, Edward." Crane continued on, completely ignoring Edward's threats. "You could form an alliance with the Joker and I. We could cause destruction on such a grand scale."  
The Joker just laughed his creepy and psychopathic laugh.  
"Don't you miss feeling powerful?" Crane asked, his voice soft again.  
Edward shoot his head "No; I have more control now and that means I have more power." As if to prove this, Edward readjusted his grip on the gun.  
Crane sighed before he asked if he could remove his Scarecrow mask. With Edward's consent he quickly removed the burlap sack and continued on with his questions, carding a hand through his hair. "You can't be making much money in your job; too many people distrust you because of what you are."  
"Was, Crane, what I was. And I'm fine. I have enough money to live comfortably." The first part of the sentence was said in such an exasperated tone that Crane had no choice but to grin at it. "Ah, so people still don't trust you though."  
Edward laughed (it sounded almost a tad self-depreciative) "It's not like they did before. But to hell with trust. I get more respect as I am now anyway."  
"Yes, but don't you miss making people be afraid of you? Having them begging on their hands and knees to spare them and watching as they realise you wont?"  
"I'm not actually like you, Crane. I don't get off on other people's fear. And as I said, I'm respected now. That's better than fear." Even as Edward said the last sentence, he didn't believe his own words. Of course he missed everything that Crane has been saying, but he had a good life now. A stable life that was (more importantly) a lawful life.  
As Crane continued to harass Edward with questions, the tiny tremors that Edward would normally quell with medication (the medication he left on his desk, he though annoyed) was getting worse until he had to lower the gun (obviously not because he was afraid that his finger was twitching bad enough to accidentally pull the trigger, of course not). The Joker, of course, was of no help at all to Crane's plan, as his comments seemed to be completely random and not much relevance until when there was a brief moment of silence (Edward and Jonathan were staring at each other with hatred and UST, at least that's what it looked like to the Joker) "Don't you miss whacking people over the head with that nifty cane of yours and it not breaking? And it used to have such nice tricks before."  
Both Edward and Crane pause at that comment because neither can remember Edward's cane ever being "nice"; the fact that it could shoot a poisonous dart, various gases (poison, sleeping, smoke) and generally held multiple explosives lead to the general impression of "not nice". Almost uncomfortably, Edward shifted, and his voice took on a wistful tone. "I do miss my cane. I can't take it out in public anymore because apparently it's not in accordance with the law…"

In that short moment where Edward was distracted (and not pointing a gun at him) Crane was his chance, darted forward, elbowed Edward in the face and tore the gun from him.  
Edward swore loudly and clutched at his bleeding nose, but despite the pain he was in he instantly backed away as he tried to put some distance between him and the now even more armed Scarecrow.  
"Now that's just not fair!" The Joker complained, as he glared at the gun. "I want one. I'm not even armed anymore!"  
Edward threw a confused glance at the Joker. "…So I suppose the knives and whatever else you have hidden away in your coat don't count then? Besides, if you can make a _pencil_ into a weapon, I doubt you'll ever really have any trouble being 'unarmed'." The detective glanced back at Crane. "So now you have the upper-hand in pretty much every single way, what are you planning on doing? Just because you've managed to make me talk about my life doesn't mean I'm going to drop everything and join you like a little dog you can command."  
"I would be _so _disappointed if you did." Crane answered with a smirk on his face.

When Mr. Nigma didn't return from his meeting with the informer, his sectary wasn't too worried. Her employer often would go off for hours on end following up leads on a case.  
She shut down her computer and looked at the closed door that led to Mr. Nigma's office. "He'll be back tomorrow." She tried to convince herself. "Just like every other day, he'll be waiting for me tomorrow."  
He had always been a good employer; as long as she didn't do anything he dubbed 'moronic' she was fine. He even would talk to her about so many different things, and even though she didn't understand most of the time it was nice to just listen to him and see him so happy.  
When the sectary left the office that night, she was never able to rid herself of the feeling that something wasn't right. She never did see her employer again.

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_**To Be Continued in Part 2  
...aka: When I actually write more.**_

**_=D Hope you enjoyed the first segment of this story, once again it was a prompt for the Batman Kink Meme over on Livejournal. Go check it out, there are so awesome stories there~_**

**_See y'all in part 2!_**


	3. The Civilian Life of Edward Nigma Part 2

"Oh you cannot be serious." Edward sounded so unbelievably appalled. "Just because we've had a bit of a chat and you've now manhandled me into some stupid person's house you think you can tell me what to do?"  
The Joker patted the aforementioned stupid person's head as the hostage screamed incessantly.  
"You are taking issue with the fact that we're telling you what to do, not that we're telling you to kill him?" Jonathan sounded almost as disbelieving as Edward. "Really? How interesting…"  
"Oh my god, you people are so _annoying_." Edward huffed, as he rubbed a hand across his eyes (but hissed when he touched his broken nose). "Of course I'm not going to complain about killing him; if I don't then you will anyway! At least if I kill him it will be quick and relatively painless. You'd just fuck him over multiple times and the Joker would - god I don't even want to think about what he'd do to him!" Edward's voice got louder and louder to be heard over the screams of the man.  
"You just gotta shoot him." The Joker reminded Edward in such an upbeat tone Edward almost agreed. The Joker pulled the gun from the unresisting Crane and dangled it in front of Edward. "Shoot him. It'll make you feel better."  
"The hell it will!" Edward batted away the gun to little effect.  
The man in question still hadn't stopped screaming (he had started when the Joker had unceremoniously burst through his front door) and that, combined with the headache and the broken nose and the tremors and the stress and the annoyance and the **_pain _**drove Edward over the edge.  
Before anyone quite realised what was going on, Edward had grabbed the gun and shot the screaming man in the face. In the startlingly loud silence that was left after the gun shot, Edward stared at the bloody mess that was once the poor-bugger's face and then at the blood staining the floor.  
The Joker happily clapped Edward on the back. "Don't cha feel so much better now?"  
"Shut up." Edward muttered, his tone completely defeated. "Just please shut up."  
Jonathan bent down and prodded the body slightly. "You could have made that a lot cleaner. Still, you've gotten good with a gun."  
"Thanks." Was Edward's absent minded reply as he made it over to a chair, just in time for his legs to give out. "I just killed him because he was being too loud, didn't I?"  
"That would be a valid conclusion, yes." Jonathan answered, straightening up.  
"I don't think I'm meant to kill people for being too loud." Edward still sounded faint and not all there.  
"Generally speaking, civilians, or _lawful _people do not kill others for being too loud." Jonathan agreed.  
"I think I need a drink."  
The Joker cackled manically before pirouetting off into the depths of the apartment.  
"You certainly are quick to kill people Edward. That was the second person tonight. Are you sure that this…civilian life suits you?" Jonathan cajoled as he sat down opposite the slightly traumatised man. "I know that your previous attempts at being criminal did not end the way you had envisioned, but you have changed a lot since then. Just imagine, you could reintroduce yourself with one hell of a riddle for Gotham if you worked with us."  
Edward continued to stare at the kitchen table, but under his breath he muttered "A Joker, a Scarecrow and a Riddler walked into a bank…"  
"You see Edward? You really should give up this farce of a life you're currently living." Crane stood suddenly and started to open the cabinet doors in the kitchen area. "And you're bleeding everywhere."

Edward laughed almost hysterically. "There's a man with no face on the floor surrounded in a litre of his own blood and you're worried about a few drops of mine on the table? Really?"  
"Your nose is still broken." Crane simply replied, finding a basic first aid kit under the kitchen sink. "I assume you would want that to be fixed."  
Edward sighed, but made no move to stop Crane from tilting his head back to get a better look at the damage he had caused earlier on. "I don't know why you seem so set on me joining you two."  
"Like I've said, you've changed a lot Edward. I find this new you so much more appealing." Jonathan completely ignored the muttered "Pervert" from his patient. "If the two of us worked together we could terrorise Gotham City, but only once a few things were sorted out."  
"Wait what? Now there have to terms and conditions? What happened to just being partners in crime?"  
"And run the risk of being stabbed in the back? Honestly Edward I thought you were smarter than this."  
Edward frowned, but tried not to move too much; he was in a pretty vulnerable position. "Just us two in partnership? What about - "  
"Edward you already know the answer to that. Make no mistake in thinking that just because you are on…civil terms with the Joker that he will not suddenly turn on you." Jonathan almost sounded disappointed that he even had to explain it to Edward as he cleaned most of the blood off Edward's face.  
"So what are these 'few things' you need to sort out?" Edward tried not to flinch away from the fingers that were probing at the broken nose.  
Crane laughed. "Insurance Edward. What do you _fear _the most?" He ruthlessly snapped the bones back into place and grinned at the muffled gasp it drew from Edward.  
"I wouldn't call that fair." The apparently-reformed detective hissed through gritted teeth. "You know my…worst fears but I don't know yours."  
"So what do you want from me?"  
"The means to find out of course. If I have…say two vials of your fear toxin…" Edward trailed off, wincing as Crane stuck the adhesive bandage over his nose to hold the bone in place.  
Crane smiled again. "Then I think we have our agreement Edward."  
Jonathan stepped back from the chair and offered a hand to Edward.  
That was when it really hit Edward. The moment he took the hand a one Dr. Jonathan Crane (aka The Scarecrow) was offering, he would be turning his back on the civilian life he had been leading. His detective work, his office, his apartment, the progress made with his psychiatrist at curing his obsessions and compulsions, all of it, gone.  
Edward almost laughed. There wasn't any question to be honest. Not even the tiny part of his mind that screamed against the horror he was willing to inflict on the innocent public could stop him. That part of his mind had only been brought to the surface by the medications and now that he was free of those drugs Edward could ignore it like before.

'_No_' Edward thought, as he grasped Jonathan's hand. '_The civilian life really didn't suit me._'

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Whoooo! And there's Part 2, written in the space of the day, simply because **Black391** reviewed and reminded me that I was in fact, in the middle of writing this!  
So a big thank you to **Black391**!

And this concludes The Civilian Life of Edward Nigma, however I do have ideas for a possible sequel (The Not-So Civilian Life of Edward Nigma), but I think I may just go back to random drabbles for a while~~~

Anyway, thank you for reading, and thank you to

**Spacemin Spiff**  
**Guardian-Nightshade**  
**Diddle-Diddle**  
and of course **Black391**

for reviewing!

Enough of my prattle, I'm off to bed!


	4. Edward's First Murder

**_Warnings: _**_M__urder, a tiny bit of blood/gore, (possible)swearing._

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**_Murder._**

The first time Edward killed a man, it hadn't been an accident. It wasn't by any means pre-meditated, but Edward knew exactly what he was doing the moment he pulled the gun out of it's holder and he knew exactly what would happen when he pulled the trigger.  
That being said, he still felt a bit ill when he observed the scene of the crime; the blood was splattered **_everywhere _**and the stupid man was still holding onto his mobile (Edward thought he might have tried to call the police, but it didn't really matter in the end).  
Edward let the still hot gun drop from his gloved hand and then the teenager backed away until his back hit the brick-wall of the alley way. He stared at his hands; they were shaking and quickly rubbed his face with both of them as if trying to rub the scene out of his memory.  
A shaky laugh huffed out of his lips as his mind raced furiously; what should he do with the body, should it go in the sea or in a dumpster, what should he do with the gun, what should he do about the blood staining his trouser legs?  
When the last thought registered in his mind the shaken genius scrambled up from the dirty (and now bloody) floor and started to run towards the exit of the alley. Before he could reach the end he stopped, turned and sighed.  
"Well..." He took a deep breath. "Face it Edward. You've killed him now and you should make the most of it." After taking a moment to steel himself against the stench of the blood and the...slightly less than stellar condition of the man's face (head-shots are _nasty_), Edward went back over to the corpse.  
After retrieving his gun and tucking it away safely Edward quickly removed the phone from the hand, turned the blasted thing off and stuck it in his pocket (making the mental note to destroy it as soon as possible). He stepped back and looked around, double checking that there was nothing that linked him to the crime left. As he observed the grim scene he couldn't help but feel slightly guilty at how unspectacular the man's death was and that it just lacked a certain...flair.  
To himself he muttered "The maker makes it but doesn't use it...The buyer buys it but doesn't need it...The one who needs it never knows it...What is it?"  
Almost as soon as he finished speaking the idea struck him and Edward smiled, the answer to what was lacking suddenly clear.

When the police found the dead man's body, they found him shot in the head, still clutching his phone. It was only after they prised the phone from his stiff fingers that they saw the message typed out in the memo box, a little riddle, left for them to puzzle over and ultimately dismiss for weeks, until another riddle was found and another and another and then someone realised that maybe just maybe, they needed to start playing The Riddler's game.

* * *

**Answer: A coffin**_****_

Bah, I'm in a weird mood right now, but I've been meaning to write this (and the next piece) for ages.  
_**This is Eddie's first murder and the next chapter will be Jonnathan's first murder.  
Drop a review and let me know what you think about this, if you want. Otherwise, thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favourited, or what-ever-else'd this story!**_


	5. Jonathan's First Murder

_**Warnings**: Murder, mentions of animal testing (literally in passing)._

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**Murder**

Jonathan Crane never had liked other people. His fellow university students were immature and no where near intelligent enough to hold his interest; they cared more for getting drunk and having intercourse than their academic achievements.  
Jonathan was the student who was always working a year ahead of everyone else, he was the student who was never late, always handed in his work early and to a First degree standard.  
Quickly though, Jonathan realised that University was a mixed blessing; on the one hand there were no more physical beatings and the bullying he had suffered seemed to almost vanish. Instead the other students would avoid him, make casual derogatory comments, never talk to him, and for Jonathan this was perfect.  
Jonathan finished his Bio-Chemical course (with a side degree in Psychology and Sociology) with a perfect score and he quickly obtained a job working in a research laboratory.

It was just another experiment (looking into how toxins in the brain can effect mental stability) when Jonathan made a mistake. A simple miscalculation, a moment of distraction and his volunteer Test Subject Number 28 was exposed to a lethal amount of the chemical. Subject 28 died within minutes.  
Ah. Jonathan circled around the corpse with interest. This will certainly cause an anomaly in my data. His cold and calculating nature wouldn t even deign to think about feeling guilt or worry over killing a test-subject; Jonathan had already wracked up a fair body count (though admittedly it had always been animal test-subjects and never a human before). Instead, he calmly started to make notes, _Subject 28 died in 4 minutes 23 seconds of exposure_, _seizures occurred before death_, _without an autopsy the unofficial cause of death is heart-failure_.  
It took Jonathan a few hours to learn all he could from Subject 28 and when there was nothing more, he calmly loaded the corpse onto a roll along trolley and deposited the body in the incinerator.  
It had been a long day and Jonathan was tired, so he left and only paused to write a reminder to find a new test subject and to begin investigating the links between neurotoxins and the effects on the mind and body.

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**_Hey there all._**

**_Soooo it's apparently been two months? I have the sucky excuse of I'm at university and WTF I have a social life where the fuck did that come from? ...Yeah apparently they just spring out of no where now._**

**_Anyway, back to the drabble above. ... Well, it's short.  
IDK I was really having trouble trying to write this because the thing is, I can't imagine Jonathan actually caring that he just killed someone. The poor guy was a test-subject, and in Jonathan's feild of work, Test-Subjects often end up in the incinerator.  
I suppose I had hoped that the end sentence implies that this is what starts him on his obession with the human mind, but whatever._**

**_Aaaaand I have no idea as to what I'm going to write next, so if any of the lovely reviewers have a request, I'd be more than happy to write it! (_**_eventually_**_)._**

**_Special special thanks to Kijo Kurosaki for the wonderful review and actually reminding me that I was still working on this -_-  
_**


	6. Sleeping

_**Warnings:** Mentions of blood, slight abuse, one swear word, **fluff**._

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**Sleeping**

When Jonathan walked into the hideout and was not only not accosted by Edward but saw the state of the main room; papers littered everywhere, cans of energy drinks crumpled around the bin and '**_the Earth my final resting place, I am the torment of Man_**' scrawled across one of the walls in sharpie, he felt a tiny ounce of concern.  
That s not to say it wasn t unusual for Jonathan to return to find the place in a mess as Edward tended to become so obsessed with his plans that everything else (eating, sleeping and cleaning) would take a back seat until the Riddler had seen his plan to completion. No, what was unusual was the fact that Edward wasn t anywhere to be seen.  
After Jonathan had hidden away his suitcase full of fear toxin and beloved Scarecrow mask, stripped off the blood-stained gloves and coat and left them in the pile of condemning evidence to be incinerated, he finally made his way into the back rooms where Edward would normally sleep.  
Sure enough he found the annoying genius passed out halfway to his bed in a state of half undress, hands stained black with ink that matched the dark almost bruise-like markings beneath his closed eyes.

Had Jonathan been a more caring person he might have actually done what a normal person would do and check to see if Edward was still breathing (or you know, even still alive), but as it was he simply nudged the unconscious man with all of the fervour of a vegan stabbing a cow. Edward didn t so much as twitch.  
As Jonathan stared down at the young man he considered many things; helping him onto the bed, dosing him with just enough fear toxin to give him horrific nightmares or even just kicking him awake. In the end the doctor decided to make himself a mug of coffee instead and see what the incompetent newsreaders thought was going on in Gotham.

Yet Jonathan still found his mind drifting off the story about the idiotic Bruce Wayne and back to the sleeping figure in the other room.  
Finally with a sigh he stood and went to stand over Edward again. Just to make sure the annoyance was asleep he kicked Edward in the side and when there were repercussions Jonathan went and lifted the duvet off the bed and dumped in unceremoniously on the sleeping man.  
With only his head sticking out from the mess Edward looked almost...normal and for reasons Jonathan never wanted to think about, he actually placed a pillow under Edward s head.  
Now he felt all disgustingly nice and knew that he would have to endure Edward s smug attitude when the bastard woke up, Jonathan decided it was time to go and find some pathetic homeless person and see what they feared the most.

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**_0= 0= 0= 0= 0= Is this an update?_**

**:3 Hi there. So you know that thing called University? Apparently you're expected to actually write a fuckton of essays and stories and poems. Who'd knew?**  
**Even as we speak I still have four essays and an exam to do before I've finished my first year, and then I have to work for half of the summer before being shipped off to Nepal for a month to teach in an orphanage!**

**Soooo I'm basically making more excuses for why I probably wont update anytime soon xD.**

**Thanks to** _Black391**for reviewing the last chapter, to all **seven** people who have this on their Alerts and the **twelve** people who have this in their favourites!**_

_Till next time~_


	7. A Session in Arkham

**_ Warnings _**: Mentions of abuse, blood, (possible) murder, sadism.

-

If the Riddler could think straight he would be furious; insatiably angry at himself for being so weak, so trusting, so _stupid_ enough to actually believe that the Scarecrow would just leave him be.  
As it is, Edward could just try his best to not claw his own eyes out because he _knows_ that the person in front of him is not there, that his father is not there, that the words ("Moron, idiot, cheater, liar, brat, mistake, useless, weedy, ignorant, moron, moron _moron moron __**moron**_") are just in his head – in his ears but not actually in the air around him.  
Curled up in the corner of his cell in Arkham, Edward wished, not for the first time, that he wasn't sharing a wall with the Scarecrow (well he wouldn't mind it so much if the guards would just gag Jonathan, but apparently it's against human rights; like those things matter to the guests of Arkham). The guards will not even look in to his cell; why would they when Edward is such a low risk inmate? He doesn't act violent, he doesn't murder the others and he doesn't even talk them to death (unlike some). No, the guards pass by, uncaring and never noticing his suffering. Though can it really be called suffering? Through the twisted and forced cathartic effect of facing his deepest and darkest (and a few irrational one too) Edward is becoming stronger. Never has he been so sure of his intellect when faced with the sight of his father. Never has he been so sure of choice of crime when faced with the abuse of the bullies. Never before has he been so able to sit alone in the dark and not worry about what will come forward.  
Yet he still bites down on his hand to muffle any cries (though the taste of the blood makes him nauseous) and he claws at his ears to muffle the voices and he screws his eyes closed to hide away from the sights inflicted from his treacherous brain. It is only after time has passed, seconds, minutes, hours, days time what time there is only the screaming of ghosts and violence of shadows and memories of abuse (or abuse of memories?) that Edward was able to uncurl from his position of half under his bed and feebly pull the blanket around his cold form.  
"How do you feel now, Edward?" The calm, soft and suave voice filtered through the cracks in the wall. Even though Scarecrow can't see Edward and though Edward hasn't always been making noises the good Doctor still seems to know when the effects of the Fear Gas has worn off and when Edward is able to speak properly again.  
_"__I make you weak at the worst of all times.  
I keep you safe, I keep you fine.  
I make your hands sweat, and your heart grow cold,  
I visit the weak, but seldom the bold.__"_ So what if it doesn't technically answer the question asked; all Edward cares about is the vain hope it might shut Jonathan up for a brief respite.  
No such luck, "You're getting over the effects faster now. Could this be because you are accepting what you are seeing?"  
"Could this be because I'm developing immunity from overexposure?" Edward's voice is snide; he has no reason to shy away from being nasty to the fearsome Scarecrow now.  
"Edward we are making such good progress in your sessions now. Why soon I think we'll finally have a nice little breakthrough." Jonathan's voice is light and cheery (what else was Edward expecting, the man enjoys pain and suffering and fear). "We can't stop your sessions now, oh no."  
With a shaking hand Edward pulls the thin pillow off the bed, throws it to the opposite side of the cell and rolls his way across the floor, as far as way from the connecting wall as the room allowed.  
As the silence stretches on, Jonathan becomes impatient, "You cannot ignore me Edward. Even if we have to wait until tomorrow, we will continue this."  
Silence reigned for the rest of the night.

-  
Jonathan was the first to enter the 'Congenial Activity, Recreation and Enrichment room' (or CARE room as the guards so nauseating dubbed the place), so when he stopped in the doorway and laughed, the guards instantly pulled Jonathan out of the way and rushed into the room. How he accomplished such a feat was not something Jonathan knew, but he was impressed; it was clear that Edward was not in the best of moods and now everyone will know it.  
"**Some try to hide, some try to cheat, but time will show, we always will meet.  
Try as you might, to guess my name, I promise you'll know, when you I do claim.**"  
The fact that Edward had drawn his message in blood was rather remarkable as there had been no alarms that signalled that any guards had gone missing.  
Jonathan was pulled away, still laughing and roughly manhandled back to his cell, just in time to see the guards ruthlessly dragging (a non-protesting) Edward down the corridor that leads to the solitary confinement cells.  
"I suppose the next session will have to wait Doc!" The completely dim minded guards simply think he is talking to the psychiatrist who was standing to one side observing, but Jonathan knows better.  
With a growing smile he lay on his bed. Oh yes, the next session would have to wait, but this little avoidance tactic Edward was trying to pull would only grant him so much time and it is not like Jonathan was going anywhere. Why would he, when his most interesting subject is right here too?  
"_'Some try to hide, some try to cheat, but time will show, we will always meet...'_" Jonathan can't help but laugh again_._ How very fitting.

** Ciao all. Golly gosh I've been busy recently what with working and being really ill and a holiday that was a nightmare and on Thursday I depart for Nepal for 5 weeks!  
So I have no idea when I'll update again (I'd like to get at least another one drabble up before I go, but doubt it lol)!  
A _ massive _ thank you to all the reviewers; you people are the ones who inspire me to write.  
I hope everyone is having a wonderful summer! **


	8. Victory or Failure?

_**Warnings : **Mentions of murder, violence, male/male relationship (non-graphic)_

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**Victory or Failure?**

When the door slammed and the long strong of cursing progressively got worse and worse, Jonathan assumed Edward had had a bad day.  
When the Prince of Puzzles eventually stormed into the room dubbed the 'living room', it was clear he as close to snapping.  
Edward looked furious; the bags under his eyes looked like bruises, his cane was clutched in one hand and was stained with blood and bits of. His green suit was also flecked with blood, dirt and a few acid stains from the looks of things.

The good doctor Crane could see from the way Edward was holding his unoccupied hand that it was probably broken, a theory aided by the fact that the glove was split across the knuckle and the flesh beneath was visibly shredded as if he'd punched a wall.  
"Batman?" Jonathan questioned with idle curiosity from the sofa.  
"No." The word was hissed with such anger that Jonathan felt a smile rise to his face.  
"Oh?"  
"He didn't. Turn. Up." The words almost seemed to be dragged from Edward's lips, "I left him obvious clues! I practically _told_ him were to find me and he never even came close! The hostages were so stupid; the last woman wouldn't stop crying and didn't even try to solve the puzzle!" Edward's voice had risen to a shout by the end. "I gave her the choice; die by my hand or her own stupidity and she just cried! So I beat her to death."  
"How interesting," Jonathan mused "Your plan has worked perfectly; you fooled the Batman and killed a few morons while you were at it, but you still feel like a failure." He stood and stalked towards Edward, who was still gripped by the anger and raised the cane as if to hit Jonathan. A brief flash of a syringe had Edward lowering the cane, allowing the doctor to inspect the damaged hand. Even if Jonathan didn't have fear toxin in the syringe, the numerous other drugs he mixed could do nearly as much damage.

As expected the hand was broken and Jonathan turned away to gather a splint and bandage, "You know that tomorrow everyone will hear about actions tonight. The Batman will find out and the guilt will crush him because he will blame himself for their deaths."  
Though Jonathan's hands were moving calmly and steadily, his mind was conflicted; why was he comforting Edward instead of pushing on the cracks in Edward's mind and why was he fixing the wounds and not making them worse?  
Edward was silent as Jonathan worked and spoke and couldn't help but close his eyes and shiver at Jonathan's proximity. "I wanted him to be there. I wanted him to fail and watch them die," The words were murmured as he savoured the rare tenderness.  
"You then just have to do it again and again until he does see," Jonathan watched as Edward shivered again and smirked, knowing what the other wanted. Jonathan lent forward and bit at Edward's lips.

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**Ahahaha wow I know I said that it might take me a while to update, but I really wasn't expecting it to take me **this** long. So I went to Nepal to teach kids English during the summer and had little/no contact with the Western world and then my second year at University hit me like a ton of bricks.  
On the plus side I now know that I can manage off four hours of sleep for two weeks!**

I have six new chapters of this collection to update which I will do so over the next couple of days / weeks~

**I hope you all are having great winter holidays!**


	9. A Break Through

_**Warnings: **Non-graphic murder, celebrating crime, non-graphic guard brutality, non-graphic male x male relationship_

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**A Break Through**

The fact that the cell next to Jonathan Crane was empty was **not** the reason why he had been in such a distracted mood recently, not at all.  
Just because that cell happened to belong to the freshly returned-to-Arkham Edward Nigma meant nothing of real importance either.

But wait, I hear you say, how can the cell be empty is the Riddler was back in Arkham? Well anyone who watched the news would know that Edward was currently gracing the medical facility of the asylum.  
For some strange reason the idiot inmates Crane was forced to spend time with had come to the erroneous conclusion that this was the reason why Jonathan had been so out of sorts; that he had _feelings_ for Edward and this was causing him to worry about in injured "beau". Harlequin had made that particular comment was it was so very unfortunate that she had suffered such terrible nightmares that night.

Edward Nigma's broken state held little interest to Jonathan and in fact, he would normally relish a broken Edward; it would make him stay quiet and always brought the more aspects of his mind to the surface. This was different though. Jonathan did not have access to Edward and therefore the fact that he had been beaten up badly enough to warrant continuous medical care meant that Jonathan could care less about the man.

That being said, it was hard to escape from the man at the moment; all of the news channels were still clamouring over the two week rampage he had been on. Edward had only managed to avoid capture for fifteen days, a pitiful amount of time really, but he had gone to town on the people of Gotham in such a way that only a true genius could.  
Everything had started with a suicide and a note that mentioned four unrelated people, all of whom were safe and sound.  
Then those four were kidnapped, never found and the police, as per normal, failed to connect the dots.  
An elaborate trail of riddles and questions were left for the Batman to follow to an apparent dead-end that gave the Riddler the perfect opportunity to rob two banks in one night.  
For what turned into his grand finale, Edward kidnapped two groups of people, set them up in different locations, gave them a puzzle and an ultimatum; solve it or die. Unsurprisingly Batman interrupted but he only had the time to save one group of people from their own stupidity.  
In hindsight, the beating that had resulted from Edward's two week rampage really wasn't surprising at all.

"Did ya hear? They found them sucker Eddie hid!" Harlequin's screeching voice was never what Jonathan wanted to hear when he entered the C.A.R.E. room, but the news broadcast was playing and it seemed like the rabble was excited.

"_And so to recap the top story; the four bodies recovered from the dock warehouse have been confirmed to be the missing people kidnapped by the Riddler last week. The police Chief Commissioner Gordon has issued this statement; "We are all deeply upset and sorry that this has happened. The failure of the police department will be investigated immediately and will ensure that something like this will never happen again. Our deepest sympathies go to the bereaved families."_"  
Much to the displeasure of the guards, the less composed prisoners cheered at the news.  
As the newscaster moved onto the more mundane stories, Jonathan picked up the newspaper he was allowed each day and sat in his chair in the corner of the room (and it was **his** chair; the last person who sat in it had tragically took his own life that night because of the spiders crawling under his skin).

The next few days passed with the little drama, until one evening, a week after Edward's return to Arkham. All of the inmates were in their cells waiting for the lights to go out when the unmistakeable sounds of the guards transporting an inmate filled the corridor.  
"Are you sure we can't put a straight-jacket on him?" The young guard sounded nervous, something that Jonathan filed away for further use.  
The attending doctor laughed bitterly, "His arm is broken in three places. You wouldn't be able to fit the cast in the straight-jacket if you tried and that's not even taking into account the amount of drugs he's on right now. I doubt he'll be able to tell us his own name right now."  
"Careful Doc, you almost sound like you pity him." Carl, the head guard of the D block, had been in Arkham for years and firmly believed that the only thing that would sort the inmates out was a good beating,  
The doctor instantly started back-tracking, stuttering and stammering until he made some weak excuse about lawsuits and duty to his patients no matter what.  
A hyena-like laugh escaped one of the cells and echoed down the corridor, no doubt disturbing the already nervous guard and doctor. Carl just yelled at him to shut up.

Eventually they opened Edward's cell door and wheeled the stretcher into the cell.  
"Leave him strapped down for tonight. Tomorrow we can find some alternative restraints for him." No one dared to argue with Carl, so the door was slammed shut and locked. As soon as the procession had left, the cells erupted with chatter as all of the inmates threw questions at the now-popular Riddler.

"Holla Eddie, what prompted _that_?"  
"How'd you fool the Bat?"  
"What'd you do with all the money?"

Edward hadn't said a word throughout the whole proceedings, but eventually managed to say, "I did it for fun of course," in a tired voice.  
The night guards called for silence and the hall quietened about as much as it ever would in a prison for the criminally insane.

"You missed two appointments Edward," As ever, the Scarecrow's voice echoed softly around Edward's cell, "But you seem to have made some progress on your own."  
With a laugh that sounded like the pain outweighed the amusement, Edward turned his head to face their shared wall. "Well you see Doctor, I was told that I was just holding back; that I wasn't letting my true potential out and it was stunting my progress."  
Jonathan couldn't hold back the pleased laugh that escaped him, "I'm pretty sure Doctor Whistler did not have that in mind when she talked about your "true potential".  
"But I feel like a new man now." Even drugged he held onto his sarcasm. "That will show them though – no one will dismiss my genius now."  
"With ten dead? I'm surprised they didn't move you to a more secure ward."  
Edward knew Crane was humouring him, but it was still nice to be on speaking terms with Scarecrow and not end up screaming at ghosts.  
"Oh I think this new cocktail they have me on will keep me tame. The world is so very fuzzy right now." The sleepy tone of Edward's voice got worse and worse until Jonathan knew the other would fall asleep.  
Their conversation was far from over, but that hardly mattered; there would be plenty of time to talk face-to-face another day.

As it turned out, the 'another day' didn't come for a whole month; Edward had been confined to his cell and the medical ward as punishment.  
When Edward was finally allowed into the C.A.R.E. room, he bore the obvious signs of a lost battle against the Dark Knight. His left arm was in a thick cast, while his right was bound in bandages. There was still a large dressing on his temple and dark bags under his eyes that spoke of the need for proper, non-medicated sleep.  
"Hiya Eddie!" Of course Harlequin would be the first to greet the Riddler. Edward would normally always aggravate everyone in the room after ten minutes, but he had clemency at that moment.  
"Hello Harley. How's it been without me?" Edward appeared to be medicated enough that he was able to sit next to the Harlequin and listen to her chatter and the ravings of the Mad Hatter with a slightly glazed look.  
Jonathan tuned out the mindless prattle and focused on his newspaper; there had been an interesting article on a new medical drug that had caused severe hallucinations when tested on humans for the first time.  
Eventually Edward made his way over to Jonathan's corner and took an unobtrusive seat a few chairs away from Jonathan's. He waited until the newspaper had been folded up and placed on the table before he said help.  
"You're not normally so eager for your sessions Edward. Is something the matter?" The soft voice never failed to make Edward feel nervous and though Edward shifted in his chair, he stuck with his decision to talk.  
"I kind of like not being your victim. Patient I can deal with – so long as you don't try to..._medicate_ me."  
The raised eyebrow told Edward that it was clear that Jonathan knew that was bullshit.  
"Okay so maybe I wanted intelligent conversation!" Edward blurted; he felt uncomfortable and a bit foolish. He didn't want to admit that he wanted Jonathan's attention (well the non-violent kind at least).  
"I'm flattered you chose to acknowledge my intelligence Edward. I know how important it is to you." The almost soothing quality Jonathan's voice took on simply reminded Edward how dangerous Jonathan was; you could know exactly what he would do and say, but he would always make you feel vulnerable.  
"Thanks Doctor, but as I said, I just needed a little encouragement to be able to achieve more than I thought possible." Edward settled into his chair with a particularly pleased grin on his face.  
Jonathan steeped his fingers. "Ah yes. What has Doctor Whistler had to say about that?"  
There was no denying that it was a beautiful laugh, one born from the sadistic pleasure of slowly destroying an innocent mind. "Oh she was just shocked and horrified that she had any part in my little outing. You should have seen how she quivered when I told her it was all thanks to her!"  
Jonathan smiled, "I have heard whispers of her impending retirement thanks to this. I wonder if they'll let me see her. I'd show the poor woman her _true _issues." He trailed off, his tone wistful.  
After a brief pause, Jonathan shook himself out of his thoughts. "I'm sorry I shouldn't be thinking of other patients while it's your time."  
"Not at all." A smile had formed at the attention Jonathan had been paying. Edward almost absentmindedly scratched at the cast on his arm, as if that would stop the itch on his skin.  
Jonathan picked up on the movement and asked "You do not seem upset about your capture or abuse at the hands of Batman."  
"Oh I'm furious!" There was the malicious spark that Jonathan found so intriguing. "I had more planned for the city, and now I can only watch from here as some of it unfolds." He shook his head in mockery of misery. "It's such a shame; I thought the Bat was better than this, but he just completely failed to grasp the plan. The trail of clues had been left well in advance and Batman has already seen them, but just hadn't understood their true meaning."  
"You had a lot planned."  
"I had more, but a fair amount of it needs me to be free."

The clock struck four and the guards filed into the C.A.R.E. room to transport the inmates back to their cells. This involved a hell of a struggle and straight-jackets because the "insane" people didn't like to make the guard's lives easy.  
Jonathan took advantage of the commotion to stand and lent down to Edward's level, with his arms either side of the chair, meaning he had effectively trapped Edward.  
Edward had a slightly confused frown on his face, but he made no attempt to escape or comment on the situation.  
"I'm proud of how far you've come Edward. I think we should discuss some business in the future." Then, without giving Edward a chance to answer, Jonathan captured Edward's lips in what was a fiercely possessive kiss.  
Edward didn't struggle; in fact he submitted almost instantly and when they parted, a low whine escaped his throat.  
"Keep up the progress Edward. I don't think we've even seen a glimmer of your 'true potential' yet."  
Jonathan left the breathless Edward in his seat and went happily to his guard.  
-

That night, their corridor was a place of nightmares, for two voices spun rhymes of riddles and fears all night long.

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**_Hullo. Did I say I'd update in Decemeber? I meant the end of Janurary obviously._**

Ahaha the worst part is that I've written like 6 chapters, but I haven't typed them up and University has decided to take over my life (how mean).

Anyway, I really appreciate everyone who has favourited this story and put it on their alerts~  
I absolutleyLOVE_** everyone who has reviewed; you seriously are awesome and make me write faster!**_

_**'Till next time~**_


	10. Good Day, Bad Day, Just Plain Terrible

_**Warnings: **__Murder (semi-graphic), blood, sort-of-torture, explicit gay sex _

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**Good Day, Bad Day, Just Plain Terrible**.

The phrase "it's one of those days" is pretty damn common, but in Arkham Asylum it could mean anything.

"It's one of those days; Two-Face made the new guard cry."  
"It's one of those days; Riddler wrote threats on the wall again."  
"It's one of those days; Harlequin punched out someone in the canteen."  
"It's one of those days; someone's broken out of their cell again."  
"It's one of those days; we're all screwed."  
Today is seemed to be the last one of those. It was a day that had started with guards dying and the Scarecrow mocked the pathetic attempts at recapturing the Riddler and himself.  
"You're jus' gunna leave us here Eddie?" Harlequin screeched as Edward strolled down the corridor.  
Edward twirled the cell keys, "But of course not my dear! We need some form of distraction now don't we? Besides, there's nothing quite like a mass breakout to test the intelligence of those running this place!"  
Jonathan had already found the medical room and had made a start on mixing together an explosive to help them out.  
This was a day when the guards wished they weren't on shift because people were going to die.

-/-

Bruce Wayne had had a bad day (now, in the scale of things that really wasn't too important). His day had started badly when he was late to a meeting. It progressed badly; Wayne Enterprises has lost a bid worth a few million dollars and the day ended badly when his Bentley broke down.  
An unfortunate side-effect of Bruce Wayne having a bad day was that Batman was going to be in a bad mood.  
As if this wasn't bad enough, it seemed like every petty criminal was out committing crimes. Three fatal corner-shop robberies, five muggings, a bank hold-up, an attempted break-out of a prison and an actual break-out from Arkham Asylum. Twenty-two 'low risk' patients and five 'medium risk' patients had escaped and it was only 3am.  
Batman had said that any of the villains shouldn't be allowed to spend time together, but had Arkham listened? Of course not, what would Batman know of how to treat the criminally insane?  
Now there were zombie-like looters in the city centre under Poison Ivy's thrall, four women named Alice had been reported kidnapped by the Mad Hatter, penguin had stolen a submarine full of torpedoes and no one had seen or heard from the Riddler and Scarecrow, which could only mean bad things.  
If there was no sign of those two then it could only mean that they were scheming and waiting for the perfect moment to strike and Batman just could not deal with that thought right now. If they had decided to make his night a bit easier and not cause a commotion, why would he provoke them when he had so much else to do.  
From his perch on top of a gargoyle on a Cathedral, Batman weighed his options. Sirens were blaring from the roads and the police radios were a non-stop chatter of noise in the muggy summer's night air.  
Clearly there was no point in going after Ivy until an antidote to the new strain of pollen had been created and Batman was already tracking Penguin's submarine, but he hadn't made a demand yet, and the Penguin wouldn't do anything until he's tried to blackmail as much money as possible.  
With those thoughts in mind, Batman started his search for the tea-party the Mad Hatter was no doubt having in what he had deemed 'Wonderland'.

-/-

Edward Nigma knew that it was going to be a good night because it had been a good day.  
He had beaten Oswold Cobblepot at chess, infuriated his medical doctor, belittled his psychiatrist and not managed to aggravate any of the violent inmates he shared the C.A.R.E room with.  
Oh and the fact that his escape plan worked like a charm, just as he planned it.  
Inside the dingy little apartment they had commandeered, Edward smiled, "What do you say Doc? This place any good?"  
From the depths of the other room the Scarecrow's voice filtered back, "it is hardly appropriate from my equipment, but I suppose it will do for the moment. Have you disposed of the man yet?"  
The man in question was just an unfortunate civilian who had been stupid enough to open to the door at four in the morning. He had been bound, gagged and was sobbing his eyes out.

"I will, I will. I had to think up the right question first." Edward clapped his hands and hauled the man upright into a chair. "I'll give you a fair chance. All you have to do is tell me what this is from and I'll let you go!" This wasn't completely a lie; he would let him go...straight into the Scarecrow's path.  
The man sobbed harder, but the noise didn't even annoy Edward.  
"If you fail, of course I'll have to..." he paused when he realised he only had a gun and a gunshot was not the sort of noise that would go unnoticed, even in this part of Gotham. "I'll have to brain slit your throat and that will just be messy." Edward stepped away and opened his arms with a flourish, "'_There is special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be, 'tis not to come, if it be not to come, it will be now. If it not be now, yet it will come. The readiness is all, since no man of aught he leaves knows what is't to leave betimes._'" The whole speech was that of a person who knew the words, understood them and care about how they were delivered. In any other circumstance, the imprisoned civilian would have cheered and clapped, but instead he just wailed when the gag was removed.  
"Tick tock, here's a clock! If you don't answer in five – four – three –"  
"I don't know! Oh god please I don't know –"  
The smiled had faded from Edward's face, "Then may '_flights of Angels sing thee to thy rest_,' for here is your exit stage left." With a smooth movement, Edward had a carving knife from the draw in his hand and quickly slit his throat. Uninterested in watching him die, Edward slipped out and went in search of a bedroom for the all-important wardrobe.

Edward hummed softly as he pulled out various shirts and t-shirts until he found a nice green shirt that replace the boring white thing from Arkham. Edward doubted the man would own any green trousers as well, so settled for a nice pair of black suit trouser. Nearly anything was better than the neon orange jumpsuit.

-/-

After he was washed and dressed, he went back to the living room to see what Jonathan was doing. Jonathan was settled on the sofa and was looking with an idle curiosity at the pool of blood he could see in the kitchen.  
"What're you going to do now?" The good mood had been restored in Edward by clean clothes and it showed in the bounce of his step and upbeat cheer in his voice.  
"I have to find a suitable warehouse and begin collecting the chemicals I will need. Though for this exact moment I will watch the chaos you inadvertently caused unfold."  
Edward took a careful seat next to Jonathan, who switched the TV on and the pair settled into the closest thing to domesticity they could achieve outside an insane asylum.  
Their relationship was not normal; both were geniuses driven to gather knowledge, something that manifested as a criminal intent, but also meant they had a tendency to be emotionally and physically abusive towards each other. They would continuously irritate each other, driving one to lash out (Jonathan would target Edward's fears, while Edward would target Jonathan's social retardation).  
Peace was not something that the pair would often find themselves in when around each other, yet as they watched Poison Ivy scream about how plants would reclaim the world, they merely made passing remarks about the flaws in their fellow villain's plans.

The early hours of the morning passed without much movement on their parts, though Edward slowly started to slip down the sofa as he grew more and more tired.  
Jonathan made no move to stop Edward's decent, or even move the younger man when his head fell to rest on Jonathan's shoulder.  
The moment was tender and domestic enough that Jonathan's hands itched with the desire to do something to destroy the peace. Instead he simply ran his fingers over the side of Edward's neck, seeking out the external jugular vein, and Jonathan tapped on it idly.  
Edward made a muffled noise that sounded so pathetic Jonathan almost stopped and moved away just so we wouldn't be able to hear something like that again, but then Edward turned his head further into Jonathan's shoulder and exposed more of his neck.  
Jonathan couldn't help but trace the vein up and then down, and when he reached Edward's collar bone, he fanned all of his fingers across the bone.  
There was a soft sigh of pleasure from Edward, but he quickly stopped breathing when Jonathan moved his hand across the front of Edward's throat and applied a light pressure.  
Jonathan's lips twitched up into a smile. He moved his hand away and down the front of Edward's shirt.

-/-

The news continued to drone on the in the background, but neither paid attention to it because Edward was straddled on Jonathan's lap, his trousers tangled around his thighs, while Jonathan's were simply undone.  
Jonathan had a hand on Edward's waist and one on the joint between Edward's neck and body, and he was letting Edward do all the work.  
And Edward was putting on a good show; he had taken Jonathan's cock fully into himself and was riding Jonathan with long but forceful rolls of his hips. Edward's head was tipped back, a blush stained his whole face and his gingery-brown hair clung to the edges of it, sweat soaked.  
"Jon –_ah _–Jonathan!" his voice was breathless and the cries he made, while not quite as nice as the ones of fear and pain, were enough to curve Jonathan's lips into a full smirk.  
Jonathan moved on Edward's next downward thrust; he shifted his hips upward and that was it, that was the noise he'd wanted; the keening "_Mmmmnnn_!" that Edward could never suppress. With a few more thrusts, Jonathan let his own head fall back and he closed his eyes as a shudder went through him as he climaxed.  
Edward hand was quickly working his cock, slick with pre-come between their bodies and he kept rolling his hips through Jonathan's orgasm until all of the air left his lungs in a harsh gasp and he came with hitched breath.

-/-

After they had caught their breath, Jonathan pushed Edward off him, back to his side of the sofa and they watched the morning news together in silence.  
This time, it was Edward who got up first. He stretched his back and rolled his neck before he shuffled to the bathroom. After he cleaned himself up, he quietly brought a washcloth back to Jonathan, but retreated to the bedroom before he could actually make eye-contact.  
It only took him ten minutes to change clothes, settle his normal smug aura around himself and walk out as if he ruled the world.  
"Well my dear Scarecrow, I must bid you goodbye. Things to do and all that."  
The lack of response was expected.  
"No doubt we'll bump into each other soon, so 'till then!"  
Edward left without looking back because hell, even if they didn't meet up as free men, Arkham Asylum was only so big and the stupid doctors never seemed to learn their lessons.  
With a smile and spring in his step, Edward wondered off down the road, whistling as he went. '_Oranges and lemons say the bells of Saint Clement's_.'

* * *

_**Oh, hullo all.**_

_**I suppose I can offer the normal; I just finished my second year at university and was really fucking busy? Ah well whatever here's a chapter for you~**_

_**This is actually my first time writing any sort of sex-scene, so if you wouldn't mind giving me some feedback that'd be great (even if it is to tell me to never do it again) because I feel pretty damn embarressed about just posting this!**_

_**As per normal, a massive thanks to those who added this to their favourites and alerts! And so much love to everyone who leaves a reivew; I do try to reply to everyone, but sometimes I forget because apparently a person isn't meant to stay up for 44 hours, so I'm going to bed now.**_


	11. Intoxication

_**Warnings:** Alcohol, drugging with fear toxin, mild malexmale._

* * *

__**Intoxication**

"Edward are you drunk?" The levels of how unimpressed Crane is, is wasted on Edward, who is, at this point, drunk enough that everything is _good_ and _happy_ and he can barely keep his eyes open.

"The funny thing is - " Edward smiles and nods, the words slurred, "- is that this is the safest place I can think of and last time I was here I was twitching on the ground drugged to the gills."

Jonathan doesn t reply, if anything he backs away towards the room he'd previously been in.  
"It's not that I'm drunk," Edward continues oblivious, "It's just that I've had a lot to drink. Apparently most psychologists can hold their drink. Harley can **drink!** I thought that was medics." When the drunken villain looks around, Jonathan has disappeared and Edward pouts. "I object to you!" He yells to the empty space, tugging at the plain green tie around his neck.

When Jonathan reappears, it is with an inhaler to hand.  
Edward eyes it with exaggerated suspicion. "If I take that, will I die?"

Jonathan remains unimpressed.  
"Will I hallucinate the fuck out of my mind?" The question is met with more silence.  
"Will you at least give me a blanket if I pass out on the floor?" Edward tries, reaching for the inhaler regardless. He sits down on the stone floor of the warehouse, spinning the inhaler in his hands.

It's only once the inhaler is at Edward s lips that Jonathan speaks, "Just breath in deep Edward. Everything will be just perfect."  
The toxic powder rushes into Edward s lungs, dispersing through his body rapidly.  
"You only love my fears." He mutters, eyes fluttering.  
"But your fears shape your mind Edward, and if not for your mind, where would you be?" Jonathan whispers, leaning down whisper in Edward s ear, as the drunk and drugged man's eyes flutter.  
"My mind is..." Edward starts, before shuddering and leaning to rest against Jonathan's legs. "My mind is..._ You can only keep it after giving it away to someone else. What am I?_"

"You will be safe here if you give me what I want." Jonathan says, cupping Edward s face almost softly, before he begins to sing, "_Go to sleep and good night; In a rosy twilight,_  
_With the moon overhead Snuggle deep in your bed._  
_God will watch, never fear,_  
_While Heaven draws near._  
_Go to sleep and good night._"

Edward frowns, but his eyes keep flickering all around; the walls are bleeding and he can hear the chatter of bats. "That doesn t sound right... You aren't..." His voice fades as he focuses on something only he can see. "I always fear..." The rest of the sentence is lost as Edward looses words to moans and ragged pleas.

Jonathan moves away, letting Edward fall to the floor. "I always love seeing how you justify this in the morning Edward. Let me see you grasping at straws when you wake."  
Even the idea sends a satisfied smile to Jonathan s face as he drapes the closest sheet over the twitching man.  
Jonathan plucks the inhaler from where Edward dropped it and meanders back towards the workbench he d been situated at.

_Three wise men of Gotham,  
Went to sea in a bowl;_  
_If the bowl had been stronger,  
My song had been longer._

_End.  
_

* * *

_I may or may not be drunk right now  
_

_(I am)  
_


	12. In Sickness

_**Warnings:** Medical terms, mentions of a biological attack, mentions of past child-abuse_

* * *

**In Sickness**

When Edward finds himself leaning against the wall just inside the warehouse, he looks around, confused for a moment.  
"I –" Edward pauses unsure if he should continue; expose himself like this.

Jonathan smiles, something that says 'Tell me, I'll keep your secret, you can trust me'.

"I don't have anywhere – _anyone_ else. We once had an agreement..." Edward trails off, his speech as fragmented as his mind, which spins off into a hundred thousand memories.

"Edward?" Jonathan asks, concern lacing his voice in a parody of caring. "What do you need?"

"I... I need a Doctor." The words are uttered slowly, as if he has to concentrate on getting them out.

"Well you're at the right place; the Doctor will see you now." Jonathan bows and sweeps an arm out to invite Edward further into the warehouse he is currently using.  
He watches as the genius staggers in; wheezing as if he is having an asthma attack and loosening his tie as if it is choking him.

Edward is pale. Well, he'd always been pale, but this is a particular type of pale that Crane tends to associate with patients who were running a fever that is close to burning them out.  
He says nothing, but watches as Edward makes his way haphazardly to a chair, where he slumps down with undisguised relief.

"I have a rash you see." Edward starts, a carefree grin in place, as if this is just a joke. He lifts his hand up to show Crane; a livid purple rash and the skin cracked around the edges. "I thought I'd go to someone more...medically reliable, but you know it goes; you piss off one person and suddenly you're blacklisted..."

Jonathan waves a hand. "I don't care much for your social issues. What will I get if I help you out?"

"The shipment of Hawaiian Baby Woodrose you so desperately want," Edward doesn't care he is showing his proverbial hand "I can get it past the custom issues you're having. Now do you need to do a full blood count and a Burger's test or should I just wait to die on your door-step?"

"Don't be so melodramatic; I'll at least give you a cot to lie on. I've never watched someone die from Toxic Shock Syndrome yet." Jonathan causally walks over to the desk he's been working at. "I do assume that's what you're implying you have."

Edward looks up from where he is rolling the sleeve of his green shirt up to above his elbow. "Would I bother you for anything less?"

Jonathan considers not responding, but he hadn't had an intelligent conversation in _so_ long. "Well there was that time with Lyme's Disease two years ago..."

"Oh I'm sorry, a tick bit me and I suddenly fell ill; what was I suppose to do?"  
"Go to your GP?"  
"Like he'd see me after the time I tried to the Vicodin scam."  
"Shame on you for getting caught." There is quiet as Jonathan moves around pulling the necessary equipment out. "I'll be expecting the normal payment on top of the shipment you realise."  
"Of course." Edward looks away as the needle is inserted into his arm. "As long as I'm alive to pay you."

"Even if you die, I'll still want paying." Jonathan flicks the blood canister while it is still in Edward's arm, just to see the flinch it produced. "But I'll allow you the concession of paying it after you're better if you are, in fact, right about this."  
"You are a truly decent man Jonathan."

Crane doesn't answer; he just takes the vial of blood and pushes a cotton-ball into Edward's hand. Jonathan points at a cot that has been set up in the corner of the abandoned doll factory. "Sleep Edward. If you are right –"  
"Things will get worse before they get better?"  
"You will most likely die before the tests are completed. So sleep, or let your end come to you awake and painful."

Edward makes his way to the bed in a staggered path. He waits until the other villain has collapsed on the cot before he approaches with another needle.  
Using the element of surprise, Crane jabs Edward with a sedative and watches with pleasure as Edward starts to fade. His eyes start to flutter and suddenly his whole body goes limp. Jonathan smiles before leaning in to get a better look at the rash on Edward's hand.  
"Dear me Mister Nigma. This will cost you more than normal." Jonathan turns away and pulls out a cell phone. "I think this will be more than you would expect. Then again, what price would you put on your life, Edward?"

He doesn't get a reply.

Edward doesn't remember the next week.  
Sure he wakes plenty of times, but only to the delirium of a temperature of 104°C and that coupled with the sheer amount of medical equipment and drugs Jonathan has him on means that Edward prefers to be unconscious.

More than once, Jonathan has awoken to the familiar cries of Edward, begging for the ghost of his father to leave him alone, that he had not cheated on the test, that he was just smart enough, he was **good** enough.  
Jonathan feels... Well he feels something. The Doctor of Fear decides that he won't look too closely at the weighted ball that settles into his chest when he sees the tear-tracks on Edward's face when he comes to check the IV bag of medicine. Jonathan doesn't understand. He's seen Edward like this before, crying and screaming at ghosts and shadows, so why is this time so unsettling?

He smoothes a hand over Edward's forehead and pushes the sweat-slicked hair out of the way, before he places a freshly damp cloth there. When the unconscious genius tilts his head slightly so that he is closer to Jonathan, the Doctor feels that he possibly understands. He had not caused this. He has had no control over Edward's condition and knows there is nothing to learn from Edward being in such a state. What use is there of a test if you already know the outcome?

When he is sure that Edward is still asleep (and no he's not just been looking at Edward because he misses their conversations), Jonathan lifts Edward's hand to inspect the last abscess that has formed from the initial infection wound. With a quick movement of a scalpel he has it open and drained on a cotton ball. Satisfied with his work, Jonathan leaves Edward and goes back to the brewing of more hallucinogenics.

Now he is sure Edward will survive, he can begin to create the chemicals he will need for the new drug he wants to test on the Gothamnites.

Edward wakes up with a headache and an aftertaste in his mouth that speaks of chemicals. When he adds that to the warehouse he can see around him, it isn't surprising for him to instantly assume that Jonathan will be nearby.

But Jonathan isn't.

In fact, there is almost nothing to show that the Doctor had ever been there; the warehouse is clean of chemicals, blueprints, mugs - everything but a table with a paper bag and a piece of paper.  
When Edward has disconnected himself from the IVs and washed himself the best he can in the basic bathroom, Edward makes his way, only slightly unsteadily, to the table.

'_Congratulations Edward you survived. Continue to take the antibiotics for another three weeks and be glad you didn't go into organ failure._  
_I'll be expecting my money to be weird to the usual account and the shipment to be here within the week._'

There is a space on the paper, as if Jonathan paused before writing the next paragraph.

'_As your doctor, I would advise you stay away indoors in the upcoming month. Your system could do without being caught in certain chemicals that will be in the streets soon._'

Jonathan didn't sign the note, but Edward smiles none the less. He pockets it as he starts to whistle.

_End._

* * *

_This is for **ZenyZootSuit**, who suggested I write a sick!fic and this is kind of what happened. : / __  
_

_Hopefully the next one will be a bit nicer / fluffier. Again, if anyone has any suggestions, I'm much more likely to write.  
_


	13. Our Little Secret

_**Warnings**: Non-graphic murder, Villains, mentions of blood, malexmale (non-graphic), a bit creepy_

* * *

**Our Little Secret**

They didn't get many chances to be alone together in Arkham Asylum. The Doctors all thought that they shouldn't spend time alone, but well, if they really thought that they shouldn't have made it so very easy start a fight or kill a weak and broken inmate because solitary was _theirs_.  
All they needed was to wait until night and speak oh- so-softly to the guard until he opened the cells and then they would have the night to themselves.

There wasn't much they could do; a lack of supplies and adequate room meant that with enough careful planning and not much movement they could lay on the bed, tangled up in each other.  
No matter how much Jonathan complained that it was an unnecessary show of pointless emotions, or how many times Edward would squirm because of Jonathan's sharp elbows, the pair always did this.

Oh sure, outside of solitary the two couldn't be more apart; Jonathan only spoke to the Hatter and the Penguin, while Edward laughed with Harley Quinn and discussed the demerits of humanity with Poison Ivy.

And in their normal cells each night was a game that all played; who could drive the guards out first; through whispers, songs, riddles or taunts.

But it was an open secret that when Edward to play Jonathan at chess, blood would be spilled the next day, and they would disappear to solitary.  
It was an open secret, but the others didn't mind because as Harley always said; blood is thicker than water, and water is no fun to paint with.

* * *

_...Uhhh hi?  
Oh gosh I am so very sorry for how long it's been! Life was pretty bad last year and I've only really gotten back on my feet now. That and I'm procrastinating doing my final essay of my university degree.  
_

_So this was meant to be another fluffy fic for_ **ZenyZootSuit**, _but as with all of my requests it went a bit...weird. Probably too much tea and not enough sleep, but oh well~_

_As always; if you have any requests, please let me know and a super massive _**THANK YOU** _to everyone who is still reading, favouriting and reviewing this fanfiction!_**  
**


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